When You Find Your Servant is Your Master
by dtngfan
Summary: Dave had wanted Kurt back - icy, strong, queeny Kurt. The gay kid. Not the gay kid in love, eyes confident, voice softened, looking pretty much like every other damn head over heels kid in the school. Gay with somebody. He was not ready for them.


A/N - This is from Karofsky's point of view. It is sad and real and gives me shivers. The title is from a Sting song - Fortress Around Your Heart.

"You _need _to get educated, David."

They were face to face again. Alone in Figgins office. Kurt's steel blue eyes staring him down. Kurt was so much the same. Perfectly coiffed, dainty, one leg crossed over the other...like a girl. He smirked to himself... But those eyes, they were unmistakably unafraid. Confident. That was different.

Kurt Hummel was everything Dave feared... and was slightly in awe of - flamboyant, graceful, queeny, with his unnaturally high voice, dancing gait, high fashion, and exaggerated hips . The thing is, with Kurt, he could be a walking stereotype but he didn't care. He was proud. He played it up. Who did that? Why would he? Why would he want to be..._that_? Kurt exasperated him.

He had only seen Kurt once since he had left for Dalton. Since he had chased him away. When he heard that Kurt had come for the benefit concert, he ignored his better judgement not to go out and say something. But he _had_ to see him. And Azimio had said he was with some guy. He turned into the hallway - _tha_t guy. The same bright eyed private school boy who had accosted him on the steps. He was with him again. And he was looking at Kurt with such affection - "aw. You miss them." Those warm eyes. He felt sick.

He didn't know why he said what he said next. Why it came out the way it did. Angry. Hateful. Afraid. "What are you two doing here?"

He wasn't like them. He wasn't a queen. He was pumping iron in the gym. He wasn't going to a show choir concert. But who the hell was he kidding here anyways? Kurt knew, remember?

The rest of that encounter was a blur. That guy Kurt was with called him out, shoved him. A fag shoved him. And then Santana. And meeting her...the closeted bitchy lesbian who would pretend to be his girlfriend to score herself one,... that was the beginning of the end. In the office that day, he would apologize to Kurt, protect him, stop bullying, and finally, finally, bring Kurt back to McKinley. Today, he's sure he would hear Kurt's voice saying it was not the end, it was the beginning...but he knew it wasn't. It was the end of who he wanted to be.

He could almost admit to himself that he wanted Kurt to come back. He could watch Kurt be in your face, out and proud, and Kurt would push and push and push, until someone would throw a slushie or throw him in a dumpster because it was just too much. He was just too much. Somehow, with Kurt around, he was protected, safe. The irony gave him a lump in his throat and he thought that this really must be what it means to be truly sorry.

But now, as he stood at the sidelines, watching Kurt as he made his grand, flamboyant entrance back to McKinley, swarmed by his Glee girls...and guys - Why was it they all seemed so okay with him? - He saw something that he wasn't prepared for. Or ready for. But Kurt, with those eyes now full of confidence, was.

That guy - he now knew his name was Blaine - appeared in his preppy uniform, flanked by other prep school boys, and he sang...no actually, he _serenaded_, Kurt in front of the whole damn school.

Dave wanted to close his eyes and run, but his feet felt glued to the ground. He stayed frozen, and saw the whole performance. Blaine's powerful voice, the sad eyes, Blaine grabbing Kurt's hands and leading him like they were in some old fashioned romance movie, the shy eyes, the hug. But hug wasn't the right word. Lots of guys hugged. Even he had on occasion hugged his buddies, when they won the football championship and stuff like that, but Kurt and Blaine were holding each other, faces touching. There was such romance, and chemistry. Between two guys. Two guys. Kurt and Blaine.

Dave turned around, saw a garbage can beside the nearby tree, walked quietly over, and threw up.

In his head, Kurt was protecting him just by being gay, the gay kid. But Kurt, being gay with someone, someone who was also out, and brave, and willing...no, Blaine wasn't just willing, he wanted Kurt. And he wasn't afraid to show it. And Dave, he was afraid to even see it, but he also couldn't look away.

He gripped the armrest uncomfortably between his and Santana's chairs in the empty auditorium. "I thought you were Puerto-Rican," he looked at her confused, trying to lighten the mood. But she scowled, "I am." He eyed her shirt with_ Lebanese_ written across it and shrugged. Okay. Whatever. Why was he here again? Santana wanted him to be with her while they watched her friends perform _Born This Way_. She said she had a headache and it would solidify their togetherness if he was there to make her feel better.

_It doesn't matter if you love him. Or capital H.I.M._

_Just put your paws up._

'_Cause you were born this way, baby._

Oh god. Kurt. Again. _He_ definitely did not feel better.

Hands on his chest, pulling open his shirt. His t-shirt- _Likes Boys._ His breath quickened. He should have expected this - perfectly irreverent, original, proud. But his hips, his prancing, his damn voice - he felt like he was watching the beginning of one of those movies he never let himself watch unless he was locked in his room at 2am. And he always remembered to delete the history afterwards. Delete all history.

He wasn't sure how much of Kurt and his new found confidence he could take in one day, and he looked uncomfortably around the auditorium , eyeing the door.

Fuck. Clearly, he was not the only one who was affected by the performance. The prep school boy must have arrived sometime between when he and Santana had sat down and now. Sitting quietly in the back row, those pretty eyes unquestionably popping out of his sockets, was Blaine. Again. He really hadn't bargained for this part.

The performance was over and he saw Kurt see Blaine, a surprised but clearly damn happy smile creeping across his face as he approached the uniform. "What are you doing here?" Kurt smiled as he walked down the aisle of the auditorium to a not so inconspicuous Dalton boy sitting in the back row, " I thought we were meeting later on."

"Hey." Blaine's eyes smiled mischievously at Kurt, sparkling. "I like boys who like boys," Blaine flirted, sizing up Kurt in his just perfectly tight Born this Way t-shirt. Dave felt sick again. He couldn't turn away. Again.

"Oh...oh yeah," Kurt was clearly oblivious. "Don't you think Mercedes and Tina rocked that number? These shirts were Mr. Schue's idea. Pretty cool, I think. Though some people could have dug a little deeper. I mean brown eyes, that's pretty tough these days," Kurt mused, " But Ms. Pillsbury's OCD was pretty cool, as was-"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, still staring. Dave got it, despite himself. Lust. That much he knew. Kurt quickly turned away, blushing. "Blaine?" Kurt questioned.

"Just come with me, okay?" Blaine stood up, running his hand playfully along Kurt's t-shirt. His eyes lingered on Kurt's chest for a second too long as he led the way out of the auditorium. Dave sighed, intrigued, disgusted, both.

It's not that he hated Blaine - he didn't even know the guy, and to Blaine's credit, he was willing to shove back, to stand up. And he knew himself well enough by now to know that he did not hate Kurt. Kurt got under his skin, irritated the hell out of him. He was everything that Dave couldn't stand and that he wanted to be. And at least he now recognized that he preferred to have the contradiction around school than absent from it. He had wanted Kurt back - icy, strong, queeny Kurt. The gay kid. _Not_ the gay kid in love, eyes confident, voice softened, looking pretty much like every other damn head over heels kid in the school. Gay with somebody. He was not ready for_ them_. And the images of Blaine's lusty eyes, Kurt's blushing face, he felt like they were etched on his brain.

Later that night, in the dark of his own room, hands in his pants, laptop buzzing, he didn't picture the nameless adonis' in the movie he clicked on. The faces, the bodies, they were Kurt...and Blaine. He wasn't part of it, he could only watch. And he had never been so turned on his life.

...

The next few weeks went better. He was a bully whip .Protecting, popular, powerful. He could be tough, popular, _and_ talk to Kurt. He kind of even liked the guy in all his outrageous outfits and biting sarcasm. He hadn't seen Blaine in a few weeks, and could easily forget the images, save for the corny school picture he'd see each time Kurt opened his locker on his way between classes. _Courage._ Yes, if he had to put up with any more of them..together...- that is definitely what he would need.

...

He knew prom was coming and he knew Kurt was going with Blaine. He had even tried to talk to Kurt about it in a gesture of what?...friendship..reaching out? Maybe. "So...ummm...Santana says we need to up our security on you because of prom."

"Okay. I've given up trying to argue with Santana."

He laughed. "Yeah, good call...so you're, ummm, you're going with that guy...that guy, Blaine?" He managed to get out the sentence, ready to ask if he was actually his boyfriend...no machismo this time.

"Yeah. My boyfriend," Kurt smiled and said easily. Too easily. No blushing, nothing. Not even a conversation starter. This was not the Kurt Hummel who used to follow the quarterback around with puppy dog eyes. Dave sighed.

Prom night itself did not go as he had expected. Though he should have expected it. Of course. The faggy kid going to the prom with another guy. His _boyfriend._ Of course they would do that. They practically asked for it. But then again there was Kurt. And his goddamn fearlessness - eat your heart out Kate Middleton is right. And all he could do was sit there, speechless, watching and waiting. Impressed. Afraid. They walked down the stairs side by side. Queen and King.

"Now's your chance."

"What?"

"Come out...make a difference." Kurt's steely defiant eyes daring him, willing him. He couldn't even picture it - dancing with Kurt. Because that would be all it would be. A dance. Dave Karofsky doesn't dance with the gay kid. The prom queen.

"I can't." And he walks slowly, desperately, out. Defeated.

There's a shuffle in the crowd as he heads towards the door. Eyes have turned away from him and towards the heartthrob singer with the thin lapel collar and pink carnation, now rushing towards the centre.

"Excuse me."

He sees Kurt turn towards the voice, his icy defiant look of fear and courage now melting into something else, relief...and that other thing.

"May I have this dance?"

"Yes," Kurt is breathy...happy. "yes, you may."

And now two boys are twirling to Dancing Queen in the middle of the gym. People stare, then smile, then lose interest.

He runs out, sweating. He turns into the corridor away from the gym, and the stares, and the questions, and closes his eyes against the locker, the image of two boys dancing swirling in his head. He tries to catch his breath.

"That was epic, guys," he hears Sam's voice down the hall, exiting the gym. "Seriously."

"I've never been more proud of you." That was Rachel.

"Lemons into lemonade, right?" high pitched laugh. Kurt.

"Lemonade? I'd say more like perfectly pink sangria with cranberries and lemon slices on a hot summer day." Rachel again. So effusive.

"Maybe," That was Blaine. "But I think Kurt and I are more coffee kind of guys." Dave peers around the corner to see Blaine smile warmly at Kurt in a tiara.

"Medium drip." Kurt.

"You know my coffee order." The two shared some kind of inside joke that somehow told the others to pat them on the back, congratulate them (for what? dancing?) and go back into the gym. Once the hall was empty again, Blaine gently pushed Kurt up against the locker, steely Kurt letting him crowd right into his personal space. Dave thought to himself, 'I've got to get out of here.' But again he stayed.

"We're pulling out all the stops tonight, aren't we?" Kurt flirted as Blaine moved to inches from his face.

"What?..."

"Kissing? In public?...after _that."_

"Yeah," Blaine's face was serious now, intense, wanting. "You are the most amazing, daring, bravest, person I know, Kurt. And there is no way that this cruel stunt is ending any way other than your boyfriend kissing every breath out of you, right here."

"Every breath?" Kurt was flirting but his eyes were serious now, lusty.

"I'll do my best," and Blaine leaned in, and slowly, softly kissed him.

Dave couldn't breathe. He watched as Kurt's mouth opened, Blaine's tongue moving slowly inside, running along his upper lip. Kurt gasped and dragged his teeth along Blaine's lower lip and he thought he heard him moan, 'you tease.' They paused and smiled at each other knowingly. Their lips met again, so softly, tongues touching, in one mouth, the other. Blaine's hands caressed Kurt's face, his thumb slowly grazing his cheek as he pulled away. "I'm so so crazy about you."

Dave turned around, and ran out the door.

Being gay was pants around your ankles, banging up against someone in the backseat of a car, or in a dark club, anonymous in a bathhouse. Not hand holding in public, kissing in school, in front of people, slow dancing. Kurt and Blaine - they were his age, younger even, and they just said 'fuck you all, we have this. We are this. And you can't touch us." The image of them kissing, like that...so slow and intimate, and passionate...broke his heart into pieces. Because how could he want _that?_ How could he not? That was not being gay. That was being in love. And it was impossible.


End file.
